


History Held Its Breath - Meta on Sirius Black and the Young Marauders.

by Zoya1416



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A picture is worth 1400 words, Bullying, Gen, MWPP, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Meta, Snape's Worst Memory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:15:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27719405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoya1416/pseuds/Zoya1416
Summary: Considerations on Sirius and the Marauders at the moment Snape's worst memory begins.
Relationships: Sirius Black & James Potter
Kudos: 12





	History Held Its Breath - Meta on Sirius Black and the Young Marauders.

**Author's Note:**

> https://images.ctfassets.net/usf1vwtuqyxm/55FnCV7ysU6mMO6QOKmYSg/868bd68a66c83d93b473ed818a37ce96/SiriusBlack_WB_F5_MaraudersMoonyPadfootProngsWormtail_Still_080615_Land.jpg?w=914

I love Sirius Black, screamed when he died, and after waiting three years for its publication, threw the Order of the Phoenix across the room, only time I’ve ever done that to a book. Death by drapery, one of the two stupidest deaths in the Harry Potter canon. Forgive me, my Lord and Savior Gutenberg.

BUT:

The image above from the Order of the Phoenix movie begins at the scene “Snape’s Worst Memory,” which Harry views in the Pensieve.

The Marauders are walking near the lake on a bright spring day, sunlight outlining their hair, green bushes at the side. The two in front are Sirius on the left, with James beside him. Their well-fitted robes swing loose to show sharp grey coats, tailored trousers and jumpers; their crisp white shirt collars close around the Gryffindor ties neatly knotted and tucked into their jumpers. James is looking straight at the unseen viewer, hand around Sirius’ shoulder, with a grin promising mischief. (His hair is out of character, as it’s neatly combed flat, but he otherwise fits my mental image.)

Sirius strides beside him, hair down to his shoulder, warm lips pressed together in determination, a steady forward gaze as he listens to his brother-in-all-but-blood. A half step behind them is Peter Pettigrew, not quite a part of James and Sirius’ closeness, but with them in a line. He’s not handsome: he’s a little fat, his trousers are rumpled, his collar is open with a loose tie, but he’s by no means a negligible figure. Two paces behind, Remus Lupin’s face pops up between James and Peter. He has the resigned and slightly confused expression of someone who wonders both what he’s gotten himself into this time, and why he can’t stop following the ringleaders.

THE SCENE ABOUT TO UNFOLD SHOWS:

Four of the “best and the brightest” of Hogswart (or least two of the best and brightest, one anxious prefect who won’t take points from his friends, and one greasy hanger-on) get ready to go up against a solitary student. An angry, Dark Arts studying loner with defective social skills, ugly; a poor half-blood with greasy hair. We know they’re looking at him, even if he hasn’t quite pegged that yet. The fuse is lit and ticking, but he doesn’t know what’s coming.

THOSE SELF-SATISFIED PUREBLOOD RICH BOYS SMIRK AS THEY EYE THEIR TARGET:

SIRIUS BLACK (OH SIRI)

JAMES POTTER (OH JAMIE)

READY TO THROW DOWN THEIR MALICE ON SEVERUS SNAPE, WHO’S ABOUT TWENTY MINUTES FROM MAKING THE WORST MISTAKE OF HIS LIFE.

Well, one of the worst mistakes of his life, but one will lead to the other. Severus, sitting quietly apart with his textbooks, is about to have his worst memory created – being hung upside down while his bare legs dangle above the lake, choking on the soap bubbles which fill his mouth. His wand has been torn away and the cheerful pureblood with the glasses threatens to take his underpants off. (Severus invented Levicorpus, hoping to protect himself, but here he’s literally hoist by his own petard. That’s bitterly ironic, but it doesn’t mean the perpetrators are justified.) This is the moment which will lead to his calling Lily Evans a mudblood (she tried to speak up for him, a further humiliation, because the emerging masculine ego of a sixteen-year old boy doesn't want a _girl_ to defend him), which will lead to her finally rejecting his racist-slur spewing, Dark Arts studying ass, which will lead to his losing hope and slipping, (or marching, let’s be real), directly into the Death Eaters, which will lead to his snooping on a prophecy and getting his beloved Lily (and her jerkass husband) killed.

Which will lead to fifteen years of spying against the most terrifying wizard of the 20th century. Well, one of the two. He’s spying FOR the other one, who installs him as a teacher, a role he's completely unqualified for.

Which will lead to his constant bullying of students, with his bully’s child a frequent target. Which won’t seem to cost him much, and in fact will give him favorable reviews from You-Know-You, which would be marvelous except that he’s still spying AGAINST You-Know-Who. This will finally lead to the realization that the other terrifying wizard has played him like the sad violin he’s become:

“Everything was for Lily’s son – we were supposed to be keeping him safe for her. But now you tell me you’ve been raising him like a pig to slaughter. I have spied for you, and lied for you, and put myself in mortal danger for you.”

(Unsaid is the ‘You purple-robe-wearing-lemon-sherbet-sucking manipulative piece of hippogriff dung, I could burn you to the ground right now. Or AK your ass, that’s good too.’)

“Yesss,” hisses the terrifying wizard (the one who _doesn't_ speak Parseltongue.) “Now you see the wisssdom of my plan. MWAHAHA!”

And so it will lead to Severus killing the terrifying wizard standing before him, who made a big boo-boo when he put on a horcrux ring, which would drain his life slowly, because of course Severus is going to follow the “kill me while Death Eaters storm the castle, there’s a good lad” plan and damn himself by murder to sup at more Death Eater dinners with the terribly tacky table centerpieces; I mean the dying colleague who begs him for help as the serpent eats her; and thence later will lead to the Forbidden Forest, where he will meet three sets of frightening eyes -one pair glowing red as the snake-faced man holds a wand and debates about the need to kill him, because there’s something like a ‘check engine’ warning on the Elder wand; one pair yellow and pitiless who sets her fangs firmly in his neck, the second stupidest death, an anti-hero dropped to the floor like rubbish; and then the last pair -green as summer leaves, as an Avada Kedavra, as those of a girl he introduced to the wonder of magic. He will think of her and choke out his last words:

 **LOOK AT ME** he will beg, to get the memories out of his head, and into that of another, his bully’s child with the girl’s eyes, who will finally kill the one terrible wizard he didn’t get to.

His death didn’t start with this picture; wheels were set in motion before this, wheels driven by him, or wheels torn deep into the bloody ruts of his life by others, but it led on from there.

OH SIRI.  
OH JAMIE.  
OH REMUS.

Could you have saved him? Unlikely, he was half in love with Death already. But did you tip him over the edge? Did you bring out the worst in him, which might have been mitigated or delayed; did you set a wheel in motion which would lead to James’ death and Sirius' imprisonment?

I love your story so much that I don’t want to believe one moment, the moment just in front of you where history held its breath, drove all the rest of your lives, but in truth I believe a poor, angry, ugly, greasy-haired boy with leanings to the Dark already, slipped over the edge that day, and so willingly embraced the only arms that welcomed him. If the prank James and Sirius are setting up didn't happen, could Lily have talked to Severus and made him understand it was her or the Death Eaters; that he was slipping too far and would lose her friendship if he didn't stop? Canon doesn't allow for speculation, but I can wonder about consequences the Gryffindor lads _never_ experienced. Not for the werewolf-prank, and certainly not for this harmless bit of high spirits. Albus Dumbledore was one factor digging the ruts into Severus' mind.

Remus, my beloved tragic werewolf - your hapless picture says it all- you were a prefect, and you ignored your responsibilities to stop your friends from taking a prank too far; you stood aside, holding the cloaks of the others, as the first curses flew. Theirs or his, it didn’t matter in the end, because battle was joined, and won, by those who considered themselves Light, and Righteous and Good.

It frightens me, this picture. I want to reach out and shake them, scream into the faces of the rich boys who’ve never learned restraint.

It’s a beautiful spring day with a cheerful prank for them, but his worst memory for the other. It will rock a juggernaut set on a brink.

It will leave no mercy and no winners.


End file.
